Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Chelsea, the ‘C’ in TC, hurried over and placed a sandwich down with a glass of tea for Mrs. Sprague.
“Thank you, dearie.” She waved her away. “Now, let’s talk wedding.”
It took three attempts before she could swallow the wad of cotton residing in the base of her throat. “Wedding?”
This time the flattened lips were directed her way. Emma scanned the room for her daughter and saw her standing beside the boy who’d spoken to her the first time she’d gone into the center to meet with Linc. Gary? Or was it Sam?
“Wedding.” Knuckles rapped on the table, pulling her from whatever spiral her mind had gone down.
“We haven’t talked about it. We’re both putting our energy into the center right now.”
Mrs. Sprague’s drawn-on eyebrows rose. “Not the only place you are putting your energy, I hope. A man like that, I bet he can go for hours.”
Emma had zero doubt she flushed, her face like the red pepper in Mrs. Sprague’s sandwich. The woman cackled and took a big bite of her sandwich, giving Emma a few moments’ reprieve. Barely.
“When Dawson came to quilting club, I asked her about Tully. I need to remember what it was like to be young, wild, and crazy. Making love in places that were an adventure. The bridge, the park. In school.” She grinned. “If I thought my hip could take it, I’d be all over him, or his father. Even both before you could say ‘yes please.’”
Dear sweet Lord, did she really have to participate in this conversation? Emma bit the inside of her lip to keep any sound firmly inside.
“Ready, Mama. Hi, Mrs. Sprague.”
“Hello, dearie.” She pointed to the counter. “Could you go grab my chips from the counter for me?”
“Yes.” Greer looked to Emma and was off after she gave her daughter a small nod.
“Listen,” Mrs. Sprague continued. “I’ve watched you grow up, Emma. I know what a bastard your old man was and I know about that little girl’s deadbeat dad and his family. You’re an amazing woman and God willing, one day you will believe that for yourself. This Linc is a good man for you. Get those cobwebs out. Grease the wheels. Take him for a spin. Whatever you youngsters are calling it these days.”
Greer hurried over and passed along the bag of Kettle chips.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Emma stood. “Thank you, Mrs. Sprague.”
The older woman opened the bag and ate a chip, one eyebrow rising again. “We’ll talk again soon.”
Yeah, she had a feeling they would. Greer’s hand firmly in hers, they walked out into the afternoon. As she headed to the center, she couldn’t stop thinking about what Mrs. Sprague had said.
Chapter Eleven
Linc winced against the strain in his shoulder but remained where he was in the batting cage. This cage remained locked, as it was for him, personally. Pitching could reach up to one hundred miles per hour. Combined with the variety of pitching angles, he didn’t want any child to be injured. Linc had come to blow off some steam before he picked up Emma for their dinner with the Stevensons. He needed to work off some of this excess energy.
Closing his eyes, he adjusted his stance slightly as he waited for the machine to lob a ball at him. Lips twitching as he thought about Emma saying he was used to balls flying at his face, he almost missed the first one.
Instinct took over and while he’d been out of the game for a while, his muscle memory knew what to do. The crack of the bat was satisfying as the reverberations moved up his arms.
Swing after swing, endorphins pumped through him. He’d been a switch hitter when he’d played and so he took an equal number of pitches on both sides.
Drenched in sweat when he finally called it quits, he took a deep breath and saw both Mitchell and Tully, fingers hooked in the wire, watching him.
“Are you ever going to forgive yourself?” Tully walked to the door and unlatched it for him.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fuck you, Linc, if that’s what you think.” Mitchell handed the padlock to Tully after Linc walked out.
“I don’t want to do this.”
“That’s the problem. You never want to do this. We’re not letting it go and before you ask us a fucking stupid question like why, let me tell you.” Tully turned his ballcap backward. “You have a great thing going with Emma but you’re never going to completely open up to her so long as you’re not letting go of the past and moving on.”
“Just because you found your woman, Tully, doesn’t mean all of our lives are fucking roses.” They walked to the storage locker and he tossed his bat in before slamming the door.
“I’m with Tully on this, Linc. Don’t think I’m backing you this time.”